


more eloquent than words

by myrmidryad



Series: show me something new [1]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Dom/sub Undertones, Dominant Grantaire, Gags, M/M, Submissive Enjolras, enjolras occasionally says shitty things without realising why they're shitty, gagging, hey check that out it rhymed, some against-the-wall fucking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-29
Updated: 2014-01-29
Packaged: 2018-01-10 11:55:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1159455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myrmidryad/pseuds/myrmidryad
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Oh my god, do you <i>want</i> me to gag you?” Grantaire interrupts, more desperate to stop Enjolras talking than anything else. But then Enjolras closes his mouth and starts to blush, and <i>huh</i>. That’s not the reaction Grantaire was expecting. </p><p> </p><p>Sometimes Enjolras just doesn't know when to keep his mouth shut. Grantaire is more than happy to assist.</p>
            </blockquote>





	more eloquent than words

**Author's Note:**

  * For [notquiteaghost](https://archiveofourown.org/users/notquiteaghost/gifts).



> So my friend Newt and I realised a few nights ago that there are apparently tragically few fics of Enjolras being gagged, so this is my attempt at filling in that particular niche.
> 
> Title is from the quote "silence is more eloquent than words" by Thomas Carlyle.

It’s not the first time it’s happened, and Grantaire is positive it won’t be the last, but whenever Enjolras comes out with some utterly ridiculous, borderline-offensive opinion, he’s torn between wanting to laugh, cry, and die of embarrassment on his behalf. 

Éponine, of course, goes straight to the outrage part of the reaction cycle. “What the fuck did you just say?” 

Enjolras has been on the end of that tone often enough to hesitate before he repeats himself. “People who work at McDonalds –” 

“Please don’t say it again,” Grantaire begs, pained. 

Éponine snorts. “You are so lucky Feuilly isn’t here right now. But wow, I wonder where he is?” she pretends to think, then gasps, covering her mouth. “Could he possibly be getting into bed with the capitalist agenda by working at McDonalds?” 

Enjolras glares at her. “Feuilly doesn’t work at McDonalds. He wouldn’t –” 

“Oh my god, do you _want_ me to gag you?” Grantaire interrupts, more desperate to stop Enjolras talking than anything else. But then Enjolras closes his mouth and starts to blush, and _huh_. That’s not the reaction Grantaire was expecting. 

Éponine narrows her eyes. “You do realise places like McDonalds are sometimes the only option, right? Could you remove that stick from your ass at some point and possibly lower yourself to the level of the people who genuinely need those jobs, and for reasons that are probably none of your business, might not be qualified for anything else?” 

People like her, Grantaire knows she isn’t saying. And people like him, and people like Feuilly. Different reasons from each of them to the next, but they’ve all worked shitty jobs in corporate chain stores at one point or another. Hell, Éponine still does, and Feuilly’s only just left his job at Carrefour. The only reason Grantaire doesn’t is because he’s currently unemployed, but all of that is unimportant because Enjolras had _blushed_. Is _still_ blushing. 

It might be from the way Éponine is glaring at him, but then Enjolras flicks his gaze in Grantaire’s direction, and when Grantaire raises his eyebrows suggestively, his blush deepens. 

Oh, this is definitely something that merits further investigation. 

In the spirit of said investigation, Grantaire saunters a step behind Enjolras after they leave the Corinthe with Courfeyrac and Bossuet, and when those two peel off, he matches his pace to Enjolras’ and leans close. “You’ve really got to start thinking before you speak, you know.” 

Enjolras gives him a faintly irritated look. “Is this about the McDonalds thing? Because I apologised for that.” 

“Yeah, bit late then, wasn’t it?” Grantaire grins at him, then looks pointedly at Enjolras’ mouth. “Better to stop you speaking at all, I think.” 

Enjolras opens and closes his mouth a couple of times, looking forward quickly, and even at night Grantaire can tell his cheeks are flushing. He grins and flings an arm around Enjolras’ shoulders. “Oooh, I think I’ve hit on something here.” 

“Shut up.” Enjolras makes some sort of attempt to sound dignified, but Grantaire can see right through it, and demonstrates by putting his mouth close to Enjolras’ ear. 

“It’s a good idea, hm?” he breathes. “I could use one of your ties, maybe, or a pair of your overpriced boxers. Maybe get a proper gag and put you in it so you can’t say another word to embarrass yourself.” 

Enjolras lets out a shuddering breath, and Grantaire laughs, stepping away so he’s not touching Enjolras at all. 

“You bastard.” 

“You _do_ like the idea!” Grantaire crows. They’ve never defined this thing between them, never called each other boyfriends or anything like that, but they’ve been sleeping together for at least four months now, and Grantaire had thought he had a pretty good handle on Enjolras’ bedroom habits. But hey, apparently not, and it’s a far from unwelcome realisation. 

“I…” Enjolras trails off and glares at him. “Shut up.” 

“Oh, I think _you_ should be the one who shuts up,” Grantaire grins, bumping their shoulders together as they reach Enjolras’ building. Enjolras is quiet for a moment as he lets them in, but as the door closes behind them, he glances over his shoulder at Grantaire. 

“Make me.” 

Grantaire wastes no time in pushing Enjolras against the wall in the narrow hall and kissing him fiercely, getting one hand in his hair and another on his shoulder, pressing him backwards and holding him still. Enjolras makes a surprised sound, but then sighs and kisses back, wrapping his arms around Grantaire and pulling their bodies together. 

Grantaire will never, ever get tired of Enjolras doing that. 

They make it up to Enjolras’ apartment slowly, with Grantaire doing as much as he can to stop Enjolras from speaking by keeping his mouth occupied. Enjolras is a very talkative lover, he’s discovered (one of many excellent discoveries). He tends to babble, and while usually Grantaire is very into that, the idea of Enjolras gagged is also very…intriguing. Because Enjolras also usually tries to keep a lid on inarticulate sounds. Getting a moan or a gasp out of him is harder than Grantaire would have expected – it takes a lot to make Enjolras lose his words. So what will he do if Grantaire takes away the option? 

They finally make it to Enjolras’ apartment, and Grantaire has decided on using his scarf. It’ll be faster that way, and he wants to catch Enjolras by surprise. Sure enough, when Grantaire loops the material round Enjolras’ head and shoves it into his mouth, Enjolras’ eyes widen almost comically. Grantaire grins wickedly as he ties it in place, and Enjolras’ cheeks are already turning pink, his breathing a little more uneven than it was a second ago. 

“You _do_ like this, don’t you?” Grantaire grins, giving the material a tug to make sure it’s firmly in place. Enjolras’ breath hitches, but he doesn’t make another sound, and Grantaire smirks, hooking his fingers in Enjolras’ belt loops as he whispers in his ear, “See, isn’t that better? Now you couldn’t say anything awful even if you wanted to.” He can feel Enjolras’ blush against his own cheek, and he laughs, nipping at Enjolras’ earlobe. 

Enjolras sucks in a sharp breath through his nose, and Grantaire kisses a line down his neck, not quite as hard or demanding as Enjolras likes. He wants to push tonight. He wants a reaction. 

Enjolras makes a frustrated sound, clearly Grantaire’s name – “Ah-airre!” 

Grantaire laughs, delighted, and walks Enjolras back towards the wall until his back is against it. “Sorry, what was that?” he grins. “Didn’t quite catch you there.” 

The look Enjolras gives him is deadly, but he makes no move to take the gag off, so Grantaire just grins and winds a hand into his hair (Enjolras likes having his hair pulled and played with) and uses it to tip Enjolras’ head back to lick a long line from his collarbone to his chin. Enjolras makes a sound clearly torn between disgust and arousal, hands tightening on Grantaire’s shoulders. Grantaire laughs again and drops to his knees, fingers going straight to Enjolras’ fly. 

Enjolras makes an encouraging noise, but Grantaire does no more than get it undone before he stands up and pulls Enjolras’ shirt off to start sucking bruises into his chest. Usually, Enjolras at this point would be rambling, telling Grantaire how frustrating he is, how evil his mouth is, how very much he needs to _hurry up_ , but right now he can’t say anything, and Grantaire can feel his chest heaving as he tries not to make a sound. 

It’s gratifying, but Grantaire wants more, so he straightens and slides one hand back into Enjolras hair, his other finding Enjolras’ wrist and pinning it firmly to the wall. “Good boy,” he croons, just to see Enjolras glare. Usually, Enjolras would express irritation via kissing, sinking his teeth into Grantaire’s skin and leaving marks, but he can’t do that either. 

The dynamic is very different with his mouth out of action, and Grantaire _likes_ it. 

He pulls Enjolras head back again and mouths at his adam’s apple, getting a knee between Enjolras’ and pushing until he’s sure Enjolras can’t move his hips at all. Enjolras’ breathing is shaky now, the arm he’s got slung over Grantaire’s shoulders pulling him as close as possible. Grantaire scrapes his nails against Enjolras’ scalp and kisses the material of the gag between Enjolras’ teeth. “It’s just not the same,” he sighs, grinning, and Enjolras looks down at him and digs his nails into Grantaire’s shoulder. 

“Ah ah ah,” Grantaire tuts and nips at Enjolras’ lower lip. The makeshift gag pulls the skin around Enjolras’ mouth tight, but Grantaire bites down on what he can get, and kisses what’s available. Enjolras tries to shift his hips, but Grantaire pushes them back insistently into the wall, giving him no space, and finally, _finally_ , Enjolras whines, low and frustrated. 

“Good boy,” Grantaire chuckles, and Enjolras growls. Grantaire pulls sharply on his hair, turning his head sideways so he can lick at Enjolras’ ear, and he feels Enjolras’ knees wobble. “You can pretend all you like,” he murmurs against the shell, loving the way it makes Enjolras shiver. “I saw the way you blushed in the Corinthe. You’re blushing now – you _like_ this.” 

Enjolras’ breathing is coming in fast pants now, and when Grantaire’s tongue flicks against the hole of his ear he makes a high-pitched noise that’s just the right side of desperate to make heat flare in Grantaire’s belly. When he bites down on the earlobe, Enjolras makes it again, a note deeper, and Grantaire laughs softly, pulling back to see the flush spreading down Enjolras’ neck to his chest. He lets go of Enjolras’ hair to trail his palm down to Enjolras’ sternum, nails scratching just slightly, and Enjolras breathes out heavily, letting his head fall back to hit the wall. 

“Don’t get me wrong,” Grantaire says conversationally, sliding his hand further down and stroking light circles just below the waistband of Enjolras’ boxers, the skin there hot and smooth. “I love your mouth. You have a fantastic mouth. But there’s a saying…I forget what it is exactly…” He rolls his hips forward and Enjolras lets out a broken sound, quickly cut off. 

“If only I could remember,” Grantaire grins, dragging his teeth down the side of Enjolras’ neck and slipping his fingers a little lower, brushing them against coarse hair. Enjolras makes another frustrated sound, half-aborted in some sort of vain effort to hold himself in check. “What was it?” Grantaire ponders, thrusting his hips again, slowly. Enjolras bangs his head back against the wall when he can’t thrust back properly, and Grantaire bites down on the join of his neck and shoulder as a reprimand. 

“Nnnnnnh!” Enjolras moans, and Grantaire sucks at the spot he just bit, thrilled at the sound. 

“It’s on the tip of my tongue…” He applies said tongue to Enjolras’ ear again, adding just a hint of teeth. The wrist he’s got pinned to the wall is trembling, and when he inches his fingers further below Enjolras’ waistband and brushes his thumb over the head of Enjolras’ cock, Enjolras _whimpers_. There’s no other way to describe it – it’s high-pitched and needy, drawn out for a good few seconds, and the sound goes straight to Grantaire’s dick. 

Enjolras is bright red when he pulls back to look, and Grantaire grins, letting go of his wrist to get a hand on Enjolras’ ass and squeeze, because that never fails to make Enjolras squirm. On this occasion, it makes Enjolras let out another sound – not quite a whimper, not quite a whine, but still high-pitched and a little choked. 

“I just can’t quite remember the phrase,” Grantaire murmurs, pulling Enjolras’ ass forward as he grinds against him. Enjolras makes a desperate sound, hitting his head against the wall again. Grantaire huffs and takes the hand he’s got down Enjolras’ pants away, grabbing a fistful of his hair instead. “Try not to hurt yourself, hm?” 

Enjolras makes a furious sound and jerks his hips forward. Grantaire laughs and moves the hand on Enjolras’ ass inside his jeans, squeezing again. Enjolras makes a helpless noise in response, and Grantaire hums appreciatively, squeezing a little harder and rolling his hips again, torturously slow. 

“Hhhhh _hhhhh!_ ” 

“Oh, I’ve got it now,” Grantaire grins, doing it again just to watch Enjolras squeeze his eyes shut, face tilted up and forehead wrinkled with desperation. “It’s a good saying. I think you should apply it to your speeches more often.” He wrenches Enjolras’ head to the side (the guttural sound it tears from Enjolras’ throat sends sparks through his body) and moves his lips against Enjolras’ ear as he speaks. “If you can’t say anything nice, don’t say anything at all.” 

Enjolras makes his most frustrated noise yet, and Grantaire laughs, closing his eyes as he pushes Enjolras’ jeans and boxers down, shifting back a bit to get the space to do the same for himself. He keeps his other hand anchored firmly in Enjolras’ hair, his elbow hard against Enjolras’ shoulder so he stays pressed to the wall. The bed is a whole room away, and Grantaire has always been about instant gratification. 

“I love being able to get a word in edgeways,” he grins against Enjolras’ neck, pressing long, open-mouthed kisses to the skin there as he wriggles his jeans past his hips. “Usually I can’t get you to shut up.” 

Enjolras growls, but it turns to a breathy gasp when Grantaire brings their hips together again, cocks sliding against each other, both of them hard. Grantaire spits twice into his hand and starts to stroke both of them at once, eyes fluttering closed when Enjolras moans at the sensation. He’s fast and sloppy, done with teasing now that Enjolras has given up on trying to hold back his vocal reactions. 

“I should gag you more often,” he mutters, swiping his thumb against the head of Enjolras’ cock to make the pitch of his moan jump up an octave. “You’re practically singing for me. Like tuning an instrument – apply the right pressure and suddenly there’s music.” 

Enjolras makes a noise that sounds almost like he’s crying, and Grantaire’s stomach tightens, his thighs trembling as he pushes Enjolras into the wall harder and harder with each thrust. “What is it about this you like so much?” he breathes, taking the rare opportunity to be the one who fills the silence. “Feeling it in your mouth, stopping your clever tongue?” 

Enjolras doesn’t reply, of course, but there’s barely any space between his moans now – even when he sucks in air, it’s got a high tone to it, and he’s clinging onto Grantaire’s shoulders for dear life, arching off the wall to meet him. 

Deprived of his mouth, Grantaire works at his neck, biting down just lightly enough that the marks will have faded by morning, but hard enough to sting right now. “Is it the control?” he guesses, practically slamming Enjolras into the wall now – maybe he’ll have bruises elsewhere in the morning. “Letting me be the one in charge, bossing you around for once?” 

“Hh-hh-hh-hh –” is all Enjolras gives him, high and wild, nails digging deep into Grantaire’s back for purchase. 

“Maybe it’s knowing that your mouth,” Grantaire gasps, thighs beginning to ache. “Your mouth is…your weapon, hm? So…without it, what…what are you?” 

Enjolras sobs, bucking frantically, almost keening with need now. 

“Maybe this makes you…more human.” Grantaire swallows, losing the rhythm between his hand and his hips as his orgasm approaches. “Makes…makes you mine.” 

Enjolras is a fountain now, noises cascading from his throat in a way they never have before, and when he comes he practically screams, voice raw and muffled by Grantaire’s scarf. When he shudders against Grantaire, his come acting as extra lubrication, it’s only another couple of strokes before Grantaire’s over the edge, burying his face in Enjolras’ neck and moaning through it. 

They stay like that for almost half a minute, by Grantaire’s guess, just getting their breath back and trembling against each other. It’s moments like this that make everything worthwhile for Grantaire. He knows for a fact that no one else has ever seen Enjolras like this – that he’s the only person Enjolras has ever trusted in this particular way. It more than makes up for any number of catty remarks and sneers Enjolras has given him in the past. 

He lifts his head from Enjolras’ shoulder, his cheek brushing the material of the gag as he does, and Enjolras meets his gaze after a moment. He’s blinking hazily the way he does after he comes, and Grantaire is already practically holding him up, but when he lifts a hand to the gag Enjolras jerks his head away as if stung. 

Grantaire raises his eyebrows, surprised. “Enjolras?” 

Enjolras looks at him again, breathing still a little fast and loud through his nose. Grantaire frowns slightly and tilts his head, having to think for a moment before the correct words order themselves in his brain. “You want to keep it on?” 

Enjolras nods, and hell, what Enjolras wants, Enjolras gets, so Grantaire nods as well and tries to get as much of their come in his hand as possible, keeping it away from their clothes. There’s some on his shirt, but he’ll live with that. He tries to step away from Enjolras to go and wash his hand, but Enjolras slides one arm from Grantaire’s shoulders to his waist and holds on, so apparently he’s coming too. 

Okay then. 

They both manage to pull their jeans up one-handed (the awkward hip-shimmying is less embarrassing when both of them have to do it) and go to the bathroom. Enjolras moves behind him as Grantaire puts his hand under the tap, and Grantaire feels the material of his scarf against the back of his neck where Enjolras is pressing his face. In the bedroom, Enjolras lets go of him to get into his pyjama bottoms, and he clearly realises that he must look faintly ridiculous with the scarf still wound around his head, because he blushes and pushes a hand through his hair self-consciously. 

Grantaire pretends not to notice (like they both pretend not to notice that he has a spare toothbrush and pyjamas of his own here now) and falls onto the bed, opening an arm in invitation. Enjolras crawls over to him and curls up against his side, wrapping himself around Grantaire like the clingy creature he becomes when he’s feeling relaxed and sleepy. 

The lights are still on, and Grantaire gives Enjolras a good five minutes before rubbing a thumb over the smooth skin of his upper arm and murmuring, “Should probably take that off before you sleep, you know.” 

“Mmmmmmm.” It sounds like a reluctant agreement, and Grantaire feels Enjolras’ huff against his neck, the gust of air tickling slightly. He lifts his hand from Enjolras’ arm to his hair, running his fingers through the curls. 

“Want me to untie it?” 

“Mmmmm.” Enjolras sounds more reluctant, almost sad, and Grantaire pulls his head back gently so he can look at his face. Enjolras keeps his eyes averted, and Grantaire can’t help frowning slightly. 

“Enjolras…” He has questions, but Enjolras won’t be able to answer any of them like this, and Grantaire doesn’t want to force him to remove the gag if he really doesn’t want to. What’s he supposed to do? 

Enjolras sorts it for him by sighing and sitting up to pick at the knot behind his head. Grantaire sits up as well, but before he can offer to help Enjolras has untied the scarf and is pulling it from his mouth, flexing his jaw and moving his tongue around, smacking his lips quietly. 

“You okay?” Grantaire asks. Enjolras nods and yawns, eyes not opening for a moment after he’s done. “Bed?” 

“Mmhm.” Enjolras tosses the scarf off the bed and wriggles under the duvet, closing his eyes before he even gets his head on the pillow. Grantaire waits a second, then gets up (switching the light off as he does) and goes back to the bathroom to brush his teeth before he comes back to get into bed next to Enjolras. As soon as he’s within touching distance, Enjolras grabs his wrist and yanks him closer, rolling over and shifting backwards until Grantaire’s spooning him, face pressed between Enjolras’ shoulder blades and legs tangled together. 

“You okay?” he asks again, whispering this time. 

Enjolras sighs, but turns his head when Grantaire lifts his so his smile is visible. Grantaire relaxes – a smiling Enjolras is possibly his favourite Enjolras. “You were right,” he murmurs, arching back against Grantaire with a contented sound. “I did like it. Do like it.” 

“Wanna talk about it?” 

“In the morning.” Enjolras is clearly already half-asleep, and Grantaire kisses the back of his neck. 

“Night.” 

“Mm-mm.” 

Maybe they’ll do it again, if Enjolras likes it that much. Grantaire rubs his nose against Enjolras’ skin (still occasionally amazed at how close he’s being allowed to get) and closes his eyes. If Enjolras does want to do it again, Grantaire’s certainly not averse.

**Author's Note:**

> I feel like I have to mention the fact that this fic narrowly escaped several ridiculous titles, including 'ask the plumbers', 'strange child burrito', and 'SOUR GOVEBALLS'. I have the WORST (best) FRIENDS.
> 
> If you enjoyed this, please consider [buying me a coffee!](https://ko-fi.com/A221HQ9) <3


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